The Unpublished Works
by mywordshurt
Summary: A collection of Faberry scenes, stories, and so on that I never finished or published.
1. Lord of the Rings

**Author's Note: **Just sort of an almost follow up to the _Star Wars_ and _Indiana Jones_ Faberry stories I wrote. Never liked this one though.

**Date Created: **6/28/2011

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><p><strong>The Lord of the Rings<strong>

As I'm sure all of you know, for the Blu-ray release of _The Lord of the Rings: Extended Edition_, select theaters across the nation were showing the extended editions of the three films on the big screen. Being the geek she is, Quinn quickly ordered tickets for all three. Rachel, while being a patient child and respectful for high art forms, decided she couldn't sit through three and a half hour movies that she was not a big fan of. While Quinn was saddened about this, she decided it was probably for the best – she wouldn't want any distractions while watching some of the most ambitious films ever made.

While Quinn enjoyed heartily _The Fellowship of the Ring_, Rachel was sitting home. She was alone and missed her girlfriend. She knew Quinn had turned her phone off, so even if she texted her Quinn wouldn't reply until after well after ten. So she waited and waited.

Meanwhile in the dark theater, Quinn was grinning her ass off at the sheer excitement of seeing the epic adventure projected on a huge screen with not one soul in the entire theater talking. It was like heaven.

Rachel was laying on her bed when her phone rang. She lurched at it and picked it up, not even bothering to check the caller id.

"Hello?" she asked excitedly.

"Hey! Babe, ohmygosh the movie was so awesome! Like no one in the theater said a word, unlike when we go see those stupid rom-coms, you know? It was so awesomely fantastic I can't wait to talk to you in person!"

Rachel was happy to hear her girlfriend all happy and excited. "I missed you, honey."

"I missed you too." Quinn's voice, while still joyful, has slowed, sounding more sincere.

The next week was _The Two Towers_. Despite a week of begging, Quinn was unable to persuade Rachel to accompany her to the film. Rachel gave her a smile and assured her she would be okay for the next four hours, but Quinn still remained worried.

The worry melted away once the film started, the excitement she experienced last week returned almost verbatim. For the next four hours Quinn sat, wide eyed, listening to every sound that came from the speakers. Her eyes never left the screen – she absorbed every image, every blade, every creature into her mind.


	2. Alcohol Tells the Truth

**Author's Note: **I liked the concept that when you're drunk, you theoretically never lie because you don't have the capacity to properly think what effects some things you say may have. So I wrote this. I suppose.

**Date Created: **7/8/2011

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><p><strong>Alcohol Tells the Truth<strong>

"I am so sorry!" Mercedes said, but ultimately her laughs proved otherwise. I glared angrily at her before she turned and left to rejoin the conversation with an equally drunk Blaine and a slightly sober Kurt.

"Puck, can I use your shower?" I tapped his shoulder and he turned to look down at me.

"Can I join you?" I glared angrily at him. Finally he conceded and granted me permission of the bathroom. I jogged upstairs, leaving the party behind. Of all things, Mercedes had to spill alcohol on my head. Thankfully it wasn't enough to ruin my clothing, only make me extremely uncomfortable from the neck up. I figured I might as well shower – it might improve my chances of attracting the eyes of one of the handsome men in Puck's basement.

I don't know why I didn't lock the door – it was a sudden impulse. I removed all of my clothing and stepped into the shower. I bathed myself down of all the alcohol. Alcohol increased my sensitivity to each water droplet. Then the door opened.

"Who's there?" I gasped. I didn't dare move the shower curtain. Articles of clothing seemed to fall onto the floor. I swallowed hard. "Please leave." Finally right in front of me the shower curtain slowly started to slide, revealing the head of one cheerleader.

Quinn Fabray.

I turned around and covered my private areas. Quinn smiled at me. Clearly she was drunk. "Hey, Rach." She murmured, giving me a warm smile. She pulled away the rest of the curtain to reveal a perfectly sculpted body that Greek Goddesses would be jealous of. Wait. What am I saying?

"Please leave, Quinn."

Quinn simply stepped into the shower and closed the curtain behind her. "Nice butt." A cheeky smile formed upon her face as she ran her hand down my back, eventually settling it on my butt.

"Quinn, you're drunk. Please leave me alone."

"But you're so beautiful, Rachel." She placed a kiss on Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel stared at her, her big brown eyes ogling at her.

"I think you're really something." Quinn smiled. She turned the brunette around and took Rachel's face in her hands. She slapped Quinn's hands away.

"You're drunk." Rachel barked. Anger grew on Quinn's face. She pushed Rachel against the wall of the shower. Her hands flew to Rachel's face. Her jaw was clenched. She pressed her body against Rachel's.

"Alcohol tells the truth." She hissed, pressing her forehead against Rachel's.


	3. Old Man

**Author's Note: **This was supposed to be a story about the development of Rachel and Quinn's relationship from the perspective of an old man who lived across the street from Quinn. I was going for a Clint Eastwood type old man.

**Date Created: **7/24/2011

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><p><strong>Old Man<strong>

Light chatter came from every nook of my home. I didn't want to insult any of them so I stepped outside. The summer heat made it uncomfortable to breathe. My weak eyes ran over each car that sat in the driveway or along the sidewalk. I slid my hands into the pockets of my black suit. Today was not a happy day.

For us anyway; the rest of the world went on merrily. The bright sun in the sky assured me that many people were currently spending time outdoors, doing whatever it is people _do_ nowadays. I sat down on the top step to my porch and ran my hand over my hair.

My neighbor came by every day and watered my flowers for me. In return he would receive money. It was worth his time, and it gave the appearance I was not _dead_. I was close, but not _dead_.

The flowers also kept away a certain level of melancholia. My wife used to tell me depression kills, and so I asked my niece to plant some colorful flowers. I don't have the slightest idea what their names were, and I didn't care to find out. She might've told me – eh, I wouldn't remember if she had.

"Excuse me, sir." A bright voice said from my right. I turned my head to see a small Jew girl looking down at me. Her head blocked the sun from my view and her brown hair received an angelic treatment.

"Yes?"

She licked her lips. I think she was nervous…but what do I know about teenage girls.

"Please forgive me if I am wrong, but it appears someone close to you has passed away, given by the large amount of cars here and your suit…"

"Yes, my wife died."

The girl frowned. "I don't wish you keep you long, and I'm sure I've annoyed you as it is," I chuckled, and she gave a small smile in return, "But I wish to offer my condolences to you."

I squinted up at her. "What's your name?"

"Rachel Berry."

"Like Berry as in straw_berry_?"

She laughed, "Yes. Although I prefer blueberries."

"So do I."

"Really?"

I nodded, before standing up. "Can I offer you a drink or some food? These damn fools have given me more food then I can eat."

Rachel shook her head and pointed to the Fabray house across the street. "I'm going over to my classmate's house to work on some schoolwork, but thank you very much anyway."

"Aren't they the Fabrays?"

"Yes." She responded.

"Which one are you friends with?"

"Quinn. She's a bit taller than me. She's blonde and very pretty."

I chuckled. "Miss Rachel, I don't know much about pretty."

"Well, take my word. She's beautiful."


	4. Jealous

**Author's Note: **Something I found on the glee-kink meme. Had I finished it, there would have been Faberry sex in the back yard.

**Date Created: **8/1/2011

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><p><strong>Unnamed Quinn G!P Story<strong>

Quinn slowly opened her eyes. Light flooded into the room. She turned over and sighed. It was Saturday…11 am. She grabbed her cell phone and checked for any calls or texts. There was one text…from Puck.

**Still comin tonite? Hope u do. ;)**

Quinn rolled her eyes. Puck had so generously offered to hold the glee club a party for their win at Regional's. She quickly responded back.

_Yes. Now leave me alone._

She plopped her phone down and rubbed her eyes slowly. She sat up and then scratched the back of her head. Something was different. Then her eyes slowly moved down to her crotch. Her panties now had a bulge. She stared at it for a brief moment with a poker face and completely silent.

"Fuck." She finally said, sounding uninterested. She ran her hand over it to make sure it was really there. She sighed and squirmed, her sensitive appendage twitching at the touch. She stood up and walked over to the body length mirror in her room. It was always very awkward – having breasts and a penis. Luckily for Quinn (or unluckily, seeing as she was probably the only human on earth with the problem), she only had it for about a week every month. Not even; it came when her period _should've _come.

Quinn ran her hand through her hair. This wasn't good. Last time she went to one of Puck's parties everyone got drunk.

Especially _her._

Her being Rachel Barbra Berry. A short brunette beauty that Quinn had her eyes on ever since she first met the girl. She also had a low alcohol tolerance, so a few drink and she'd being flying all over the place. Quinn simply pulled on a pair of sweat pants and jogged downstairs. She didn't want to deal with this right now.

It was an hour before the party was going to start when Puck texted Quinn.

**Jesse St. James is coming. **

Quinn's jaw dropped at what she just read. Jesse St. James was Rachel's arrogant boyfriend. He was always on Rachel when they were together and she rarely stopped him – she could only imagine what would happen if they were both drunk. Quinn clenched her fists and banged them against her bed.

Quinn was the last person to arrive at the party. She lost track of time when her favorite pair of jeans made her dick look much too obvious. She eventually resolved to wearing her pair of sweatpants. She figured she'd be sitting most of the time, and she wore a tight pair of briefs that kept her little friend down…for the most part.

It was quite uncomfortable however.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Puck greeted Quinn by wrapping his arm around Quinn's neck, pulling her into him.

"Puck, really." She pushed him off of her as they both made their way to the basement. Music filled the room and everyone was doing something that looked 'fun'. Mercedes, Artie and Kurt were gossiping in the corner; Santana and Brittany were dancing suggestively; Mike Chang and Tina were dancing; Finn, Lauren and Sam were talking on the couch about video games probably (Puck had probably been too); and Rachel and Jesse were making out in the corner. Quinn frowned at the sight and her eyes grew dark.

"Grab a beer. I promise I won't get you laid, this time." Puck laughed as he nudged Quinn towards a table with food and beer on it. Quinn internally laughed at Puck. He couldn't fuck her if he tried.

"Hey Q," Brittany surprised Quinn, hugging her. Quinn leaned her hips away – hugging Brittany was always slightly arousing.

"Q, why you so late?" Santana added.

"I lost track of time." Quinn looked at her before grabbing a beer.

"Did you see Barbra getting it on?" Santana laughed, pointing to the couple in the corner. Quinn glared angrily at the two before violently swigging down some beer.

"You okay?" Brittany asked. Quinn nodded, although she didn't really consider the question. She patted Brittany's shoulder and then made her way next to Puck on the couch. She leaned back into the cushion and tried not to look at Rachel, but every now and again her gaze would crawl back to Rachel's butt. Once she realized what she was doing she would cross her legs and turn away. She would have a boner in no time if she didn't watch herself.

"Quinn, you okay?" Puck asked, diverting his attention away from the Call of Duty conversation.

She nodded. "This is a really good party, Puck." Puck looked at Quinn, trying to tell if it was sarcasm. He finally decided it wasn't (mostly to spare his own feelings) and patted Quinn's thigh friendly, which caused the girl to jump away.

"You okay?"

Quinn looked at him with scared eyes before nodding.

"Spin the bottle!" Santana suddenly yelled from the center of the room. Everyone cheered, beside Quinn and Puck. Quinn shakily stood up and walked to the circle while Puck watched her.

"Okay, I go first." Santana grins devilishly. She spun the empty beer bottle: it landed on Brittany. Santana didn't have to think twice as she got her mack on with Britt. Brittany spun and landed on Rachel.

"Rachel!" Brittany grinned excitedly.

"Watch yourself, Berry."

The kiss was chaste and quick, and Santana didn't say anything about it.


	5. Pressed Lemon

**Author's Note: **This would have been an exaggerated look on the pressed lemonness of Quinn. But I wrote it at least two AM or something because it sucks and is awkward.

**Date Created: **8/8/2011

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><p><strong>Pressed Lemon<strong>

Rachel knew something was up from the moment Quinn opened her mouth in response to Rachel's rendition of "I Have Confidence" that late October day. She realized that Quinn didn't like her very much…and so she was always prepared for anything Quinn could possibly say against her. But this…she didn't know what to make of this.

"Rachel," she started, "that performance was definitely without a doubt not great," all eyes turned to Quinn – her wording was especially confusing to everyone present, "And I'm telling you this because I don't love you at all. Not one bit. It's not like I'm a pressed lemon or anything. So, seeing as your performance not being great, we don't want an encore, so just sit down. But not on my lap." Quinn crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

Was Quinn trying to make fun of her? Rachel never considered any attraction for Quinn…and she certainly never spoke of it. She nodded in response to Quinn's confusing-yet-harsh response, moving to sit down.

"Wait a minute Rachel. First off, I thought that was incredible, honestly." Mr. Schue started, before standing up and turning to Quinn. "And Quinn, I honestly think that you should apologize to Rachel."

"What for?" Quinn asked, her face impassive.

"You just trashed Rachel. It was pretty weird how you did it too." Puck said for their teacher. Quinn glared at him for a moment, before he finally shrunk back into the seat. Lauren rolled her eyes.

"Puck is right, Quinn. You were quite rude to Rachel."

"I'm not her girlfriend. It's not like we're in love and having great sex every night." Santana and Brittany silently snickered in the corner, Finn and Puck were day dreaming, with Finn murmuring mailman. The rest of the club just sat in shock. Rachel's mouth dropped open and she couldn't help but stare wide eyed at the blonde.

"Quinn, this is quite inappropriate."

"What? I said we aren't. Geez, Mr. Schue sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind."

"Quinn, I'm going to have to ask you to go down to the principal's office. I'll be there when class is over."

And that was the end of that.

That was beginning of the new Quinn…the Quinn that Santana referred to as a 'pressed lemon'. While Quinn denied it, everyone else highly believed that Quinn was gay. And it was pretty obvious. But Quinn didn't talk that way to all girls - just one.

Rachel took it particularly hard. Quinn did cease calling her Manhands, Stubbles, RuPaul and such, she did come up with new names…

Rachel was standing at her locker, swapping her books and grabbing her lunch, when Quinn Fabray grabbed her hair and seemingly-playfully pulled it. "What's up, Shortcake?"

Having her hair pulled didn't hurt – she just didn't see it coming. And so Rachel stared after Quinn, eyebrows furrowed at this new…insult? Quinn had developed. _Shortcake_?

As Quinn walked away, she slowly turned her head to look at Rachel, her eyes yearning and her mouth pressed into a line that expressed a certain level of melancholia that Quinn did not too often express.

The next insult Quinn came up with was just as unexpected as 'shortcake'.

The short brunette was sitting in the choir room alone at lunch one day, when Quinn appeared in the doorway. Rachel felt her eyes on her and she looked up, jumping slightly at Quinn.

"I'd ask why you're in here all alone, but I suspect I already know." Quinn waltzed into the room and sat on the piano bench.

"Why…?" Rachel asked, waiting for Quinn's newest insult.

"You're a princess that _nobody _wants to talk to so they sent you away to the tallest tower. The choir room being the tower." Quinn held her head high and delivered the line so well it almost gave the impression of being insulting.

"Quinn…was that an insult?"

"Berry, I didn't know you were as dumb as Finn."

"Finn's not that dumb…"

"Finn's dumb as dirt."

Rachel opened her mouth to retort once more, but she closed it in realization that Finn wasn't really…smart.

"Well, I'm definitely not your Prince Charming. Goodbye." Quinn said, leaving Rachel in pure confusion.

"You like Berry."

Quinn turned from her locker to Santana and then to Brittany. "What? No I don't."

"Liar. You like the midget."

Quinn rolled her eyes and she closed her locker shut and started to walk away. "You're crazy."

Santana glared at the girl. "You're the crazy one. She's ugly as hell." Santana knew this wasn't true. What was true was that she dressed ugly as hell. Quinn, without break pivoted on the balls of her feet and started walking back to Santana; anger, fury and rage had moved into the neighborhood that was her face and they were going to stay.


	6. Writer

**Author's Note: **This first part was a homage to Woody Allen's _ Manhattan_, but it would have been a fantasy story.

**Date Created: **8/11/2011

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><p><strong>Writer<strong>

'Chapter one. She knew the beauty she was but had never experienced it outside herself. To find someone with beauty equal to her own was her dream.'

Wait – change that.

'Her dream was to stumble upon someone with beauty even greater than her own. Everywhere she went she would see people, but just people. Not angels like herself. The only place she could ever see beauty was in nature. Was in music – like the masterpieces of Mozart.'

Yeah…no. I'm going to start this over.

'Chapter one. She knew of her beauty and that was her issue. She was _too _beautiful. No one else compared to her. Only in nature could she associate with the sheer magnificence that she saw in mirrors.'

Too arrogant. I'm sure there's some way to write this.

'Chapter one. Everyone around her saw her true beauty. No one let her forget. But she was blind to her true beauty and that was her problem. She needed someone to show her the way.'

Ugh. Too preachy. People are gonna shut the book before they even get past page one cause they'll think it's some angsty romance about finding yourself.

'Chapter one. She was beautiful. She felt it but never showed it. Behind her shining hazel eyes was the vision that one needed to understand that everything in life was beautiful. Unfortunately, she was the only one who held this true sight. And that's why she would find true love while everyone else wallowed in the misery that was blindness.'

I love this.


	7. Drunk

**Author's Note: **Just writing. My fascination with alcohol is uncanny.

**Date Created: **8/16/2011

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><p><strong>Drunk<strong>

My eyes fluttered open and instantly sunlight from through the window blinded me. My head pounded – most likely an after effect of all the drinking I did last night. Slowly I forced my body to move, and I sat up. I was already half hanging off a bed – not mine. My fingers felt the fabric under them.

Then I heard the breathing of someone. Turning slightly, there sat Rachel Berry behind me on whoever's bed this was. I assumed it was Puck's; the party last night was at his house. My eyes ran over the length of Rachel's half clothed body before they did the same to my own. I wasn't wearing pants. Did Rachel and I…?

No! No way would I ever do anything with _her_. I looked around the room, quickly spotting my own pants, and Rachel's skirt soon after. Should I just leave? But maybe that would freak her out or hurt her…

What do I care? I turned away for only a moment before I succumbed to staring at the brunette for a long moment. She looked so peaceful. And I'm tired…what time is it? Is the party still going on? Who else is here…does Puck know I'm here?

I tried to ignore all these trivial questions while I gently laid down next to Rachel. She looked so nice and pretty when she was sleeping. Maybe I never noticed it because she was always running her mouth about glee club or her boy troubles.

What if I'm here when she wakes up and she freaks out about doing…something with me? Hold it, Fabray. You're not even sure that you two did _anything_, much less the nasty. But it couldn't have been very nasty with her. She so small and gentle and pretty.

I'm not gay though…or bisexual…I'm straight. I…like guys. Well, Finn and Puck and kind of Sam. But I don't think I like girls.

I broke out of my unfocused gaze and looked at Rachel. She slowly breathed out of her parted lips and cute nose. Her hair was strewn around her head and some of it fell onto her face. Without thinking I cautiously took her hand in my own and held it. It was…soft and cold. It felt nice on mine. With my other hand I lightly brushed the strands of hair out of her face. She didn't seem disturbed. Finally I ran her hair behind her ear.

And her free hand grabbed mine. She brought it down between us. She squirmed over towards me – I think she was still sleeping. When she stopped moving she was only an inch or so away from me. I could literally feel her body heat.

"Sweetheart…" I mumbled, I don't know what I was doing when I said it though. But an overwhelming sense of joy ran through me when she smiled.

Her eyes slowly opened and through her long eyelashes she stared at me. She didn't seem to be thinking about much; I guess the alcohol was still in her system.

"RachBear." Where did that come from?

"Hey Quinn." Quinn. Just Quinn. Not Quinnie, or QuinnieBoo or even Q. Just Quinn. I frowned and tightened my grasp on her hand. She slowly grew more awake. Then her eyes widened with realization.

"What happened last night?" I asked, not letting her go.

"I…I-I-don't know." She looked down out our entangled hands and then back up to my face. She


	8. Miley Cyrus

**Author's Note: **I ended up having an epic roleplay on omegle, and there was a brief conversation about Miley Cyrus that I brought up because I love Miley Cyrus, and it led me to start to write this.

**Date Created: **8/20/2011

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><p><strong>Miley Cyrus<strong>

"You can't be serious…"

"I am quite serious, Quinn."

"We've been dating for like ever and I am just finding out about this now?"

"I'm sorry you aren't more observant. But this is something you just have to live with, like I live with your _Star Wars_, _Indiana Jones_, and _Lord of the Rings_ obsessions. I don't even see the problem…"

"First off, you cannot compare The Big Three [the big three being the three franchises Quinn worships] with your own obsessions. Second, you enjoy them almost as much as me."

"I don't see why I cannot. And that's beside the point Quinn…I could very well live without them. And half the reason I enjoy _Indiana Jones _is because of the whip."

"Why do you like her? She's such a…fake skank."

Rachel did a 180 degree turn, from the Miley Cyrus CD she was staring at on her table to Quinn, who was sitting on her bed. Rachel's eyes were filled with hurt and her mouth hung open: Quinn's words had left her absolutely speechless.

"I think you should leave." Rachel said upon finally gaining the ability to speak.

"But"

"Quinn. I understand you do not enjoy her music but that is _no _reason to call her a fake skank. On top of that I shocked that you are so insensitive…I expected the old Quinn to say something like that but not the Quinn I love. Please leave before I start to cry." Rachel took long strides to the door before opening it for Quinn.

Quinn slowly made her way to the door. Her head was dropped and she was kicking herself mentally. "Can I have a kiss?" she stood in front of Rachel, her hand taking the brunette's.

Rachel lifted Quinn's hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to the back of it. "We'll be okay. I just need some time to cool down. Come over tomorrow. We'll watch a movie. Mkay?"

"Not _Hannah Montana: The Movie _I hope." Quinn joked.

Rachel dropped Quinn's hand and literally pushed her out. "It'll be your pick," Rachel said coldly to Quinn's face. She slammed the door shut and started to cry.


	9. Snuggles

**Author's Note: **I probably wrote this after a marathon of The Office. I love the Niagra Falls episodes. Ugh. So romantic.

**Date Created: **9/5/2011

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><p><strong>Snuggles<strong>

Do you know what the greatest feeling in the world is?

It's not waking up on Christmas morning to a ton of presents sitting beneath a nice tree. It's not your first kiss. It's not even being the top of your class. Although all those things are nice…

The greatest feeling in the world is holding Rachel Berry at night in bed. Naked.

We aren't completely naked! I swear! We're wearing our bras and panties. But that's it. We still haven't done _it_ yet. But we will…

It's not important.

I love spooning with Rachel. She's so tiny and smooth and cuddly. Of course I'm the big spoon, and she's the little spoon but you already got that from me being the little spoon. She had fallen asleep after we had a marathon of _The Office _– it was one of my favorite shows and Rachel enjoyed the romantic parts.

The _entire _time I had my nose buried in Rachel: I mean, we weren't spooning the entire time. When we first got into her bed the plan was to take her…yes, take take her…but in the end I got distracted by the adorableness that radiated from her pocket sized body. It wasn't completely G rated – her panties did stay on the entire time but honestly, who could resist those legs. Those thighs…shhh! She's asleep.

Her breathing was as rhythmic as her voice (does that make sense?), and having my hands on he


	10. Fat Girl

**Author's Note: **Ugh. Don't even ask. A attempted smut thing. For particular reasons I shall not reveal. #Neverplannedtopublishthisever

**Date Created: **9/12/2011

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><p><strong>Fat Girl<strong>

Rachel slowly walked her way up the Fabray staircase. Her beautiful, _beautiful_ girlfriend Quinn Fabray was waiting for her up there. It was the first time the two would be alone and quite honestly, while neither was quite ready for sex, they did want to do a lot of touching. Specifically Rachel. Cause, to put it simply, Quinn had a lot to touch…

Rachel pushed open the door to reveal Quinn Fabray, laying on her bed, reading _Love in the Time of Cholera_. She looked up at Rachel, who was smiling coyly at her.

"Hey," Quinn said, patting the space next to her.

Rachel closed the door and quickly made her way next to Quinn and sat down next to her. "Hey yourself, big girl."

Quinn blushed with glee. Rachel pressed her lips up against Quinn's soft cheek before resting her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Enjoying your book?" Rachel eyed the novel in Quinn's hand – she was halfway through the thick book.

Quinn nodded. "Of course. Are you ready?" the blonde turned to Rachel. The brunette smoothly took the book out of Q's hand and leaned in for a kiss.

"You know I am." Rachel said as she kissed Quinn. She was just about to grab Quinn when she interrupted.

"Wait! I need to tell you something." Quinn said, staring at Rachel with beautiful hazel eyes. Rachel backed off.

"Yes?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "I weight myself again today." She bit her bottom lip as Rachel stared in excitement. "I hit 350!" she grinned widely. Rachel's jaw slowly dropped in happiness.

"You are just the sexiest girl I've ever met." Rachel said as she threw her leg over Quinn, effectively straddling her. She sank into her girlfriend's bulk. She leaned down and took a passionate kiss from Quinn.

"Even though I'm fat?"

"Especially cause you're fat."

Rachel slid a hand underneath the _Star Wars _t-shirt Quinn was sporting that day. Her fingers gently stroked the bottom of Quinn's belly. Soon enough, as the two made out, Quinn felt her t-shirt leave most of her torso as Rachel pulled her arms through it. They broke only for a moment to take off the totally awesome shirt.

Rachel palmed both of Quinn's ample breasts, slowly kneading them. Sooner then she anticipated, Rachel felt Quinn's hardened nipples poke through the bra. Rachel snaked her hands around the back and undid Quinn's bra. The minute it left Quinn's breasts, Rachel started to inch her way towards them. Pecking down the blonde's soft throat onto her collarbone, Rachel moved back, her hands running down the length of Quinn's stomach.

A gasp escaped Quinn when she felt a mouth latch onto her erect nipples. She squirmed, her body jiggling slightly as she did, before settling down to Rachel's suckling.

Rachel let go of Quinn's breast to remove her own shirt. And like that she was back on Quinn's tit: her toned stomach pressed against her girlfriend's fat one. Rachel's hand grasped the other unattended mammary. Her thumb flicked the nipple as the rest of her fingers and palm massaged the massive boob.

Only a short while later, Rachel found herself in between two massive and naked thighs. Her hands were gently but lustfully squeezing and squishing th


	11. Piano

**Author's Note: **I wrote this after seeing a photoset on tumblr that was an AU of the piano scene. Went kind of like this.

**Date Created: **11/6/2011

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><p><strong>Piano<strong>

I don't know what I was doing. My heart was just pulling me to tell her. She deserved to know…according to my heart. My brain was telling me no. It was telling me this was a bad idea: anything I've done in the past to get this friendship to where it is today would have been for nothing; Quinn would probably jump away and throw indecent language at language: what exactly was not certain, but given the girl's religious background she figured they wouldn't be _that _bad.

The sound of simple music playing from a piano filled the auditorium. It wasn't necessarily loud, but the silence of the rest of the school – yes, the rest of the school (Quinn and I were writing songs for Regionals, an idea that I concocted a few weeks ago that Quinn finally decided to support; the only person to do so) – helped to amplify the music. I stood by the door that lead to the stage, trying to maintain a stable breath rate. I wasn't quite sure whether it was over my decision to tell Quinn all, or simply _seeing _the beautiful blonde angel that was waiting for me. She couldn't quite play the piano well, but she sufficed for the intent of songwriting.

I pushed the door open finally; my eyes clenched tight to trying and keep back tears of anxiety. The piano playing stopped and I saw a slight smile form upon Quinn's face as I came into view: not a happy smile so much as a smile just to be polite.

"Hello, Quinn," I started, my mouth drying as soon as the air entered it, "how are you?"

Quinn mumbled something in reply – I don't know why she was doing this with me, she looked like she'd rather be whipped – and I pretended to hear it, just to be sociable. "Good." I replied.

"Why's that good?" Quinn's head jerked towards me and I felt hot. What did she say?

"I'm sorry! I-I-I didn't hear-what you said." The swallow in the middle of the sentence along with the stuttering clearly gave away how nervous I was.

"I said I'm tired." She said firmly and loud enough.

I blushed, feeling stupid that I didn't hear it in the first place. My head dropped and I stared shyly as my clasped hands. They were clammy. I don't get clammy hands. Most of the time. I heard Quinn sigh, as if exhausted. That was…good. I guess. It's better than her sighing about having to spend the next hour working with a babbling Jewish girl on songs for some show choir competition.

"You okay?" she asked, not necessarily caring about whether I was okay but just annoyed that she had to deal with my melancholia.

"I love you." My head snapped up as I spoke the words. I stared at Quinn with glass eyes and she looked at me back with a blank stare. A blank stare. Then she smiled. She smiled and she started to laugh.

What was she doing?

She leaned onto the piano, her elbows pressing several keys in conjunction, contrasting with the sweet sound of her laughter. I shifted back and forth uncomfortably. Why was she laughing…it's because I'm a freak.

"It's not funny." I said. I swallowed and looked away, my eyes unable to find something particularly interesting nevertheless.

Quinn sat up straight and nodded, jerking her hair back out of her face. She looked away towards the back of the auditorium before standing up.


	12. Interruption

**Author's Note: **Shut up. This was more smut w/plot. Still.

**Date Created: **11/12/2011

* * *

><p><strong>The Inner Machinations of My Mind Are An Enigma <strong>

What am I doing. What the fuck am I doing.

My hands seem to have a mind of their own as they slowly unbutton my jeans. The only source of light is from the lamp on the other side of the room; although the streetlight outside illuminates the snow that's lined itself upon the windowsill.

My chest is rising and falling with each new action – the unzippering of my pants.

I'm completely alone. Everything is gone. My parents are out of town to see my Aunt who's sick: I didn't go because they didn't want me to miss any school. I never really knew the Aunt anyway. So. Fuck it.

The thin panties I have on are clinging to me. I pull them away from my skin…the wedgie these fucking panties give me is unbearable.

What the fuck do you do? Brown curls are peeking out of the hem. I lick my lips nervously and thrust my hips into the air and remove the underwear. I inhale and exhale. Slipping my feet through the holes, I toss the cotton linens onto the floor.

I blink a few times at my life. What is going on. What the fucking fuck is going on. I grasp my thighs lightly and force them together. Not happening.

I have the thoughts in my head. The thought of Rachel with huge boobs in my head. I don't even know what is going on. Just this…this naked big-breasted Rachel Berry waiting for me. And fuck. It's me, but I'm big.

My mind sucks sometimes.

Sucks.

Rachel lets me suck her. Her enticing nipples. Why? I'm big. Not…tall…fat. I'm fat. Fucking fat. As if I was never a cheerleader. I'm not too bad if I say so myself. I look soft. Smooth. So smooth. Rachel runs her hands over me.

Fucking Rachel's girlfriend is responsible for this, I bet. Rachel likes _big _girls. I guess. I didn't think anyone ever did. She squeezes my flesh. Her hand gropes my ass for a moment. I continue sucking.

This is how it happens. You don't even know it. It just. All of a sudden my hand was in between my legs. It was stroking gently. Then it was really working me. The brown hair tickles my palm as it moves in and out.

In and out.

Rachel turns me over and I lose her tit. She's on my now. She kisses my belly before grasping my breasts. She kisses me. And she kisses me hard while her hands massage every inch of my larger body. She presses her developed chest to my body and I moan out in pleasure.

I moan out in please.

I moan out.

Instantly my phone rings. I jump – broken from my erotic fantasy. I jumble for it. It's in my pants pocket and I'm completely floored to see it's Rachel.

"Hey, Rachel…" I said huffing and puffing.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" she replies, noticing my breathing. Who wouldn't.

I swallow, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, fine. I was just…what's up?"

A silence follows my confused statements. "Um. I don't know. I was sitting here and I called you. I'm sorry this was a stupid idea. You're probably busy studying or having fun or something I'll just go."

"No!" my voice screams out in sheer ecstasy. That wasn't weird at all.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again, clearly concerned.

"Just…awkward timing." My sex is throbbing with pure desire. "Your girlfriend is beautiful."

An incoherent ramble ensues for a moment while Rachel tries to comprehend. "Who? I don't have a girlfriend." She lies. I can just tell.

"The big girl. The one you were holding hands with behind the bleachers at the Football game yesterday."

"Quinn- I – don't. Wait. Just. Ugh. She's not my girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. Whatever."

"I like her, yeah. But she doesn't like me." She whined.

I'm silenced for a brief minute trying to comprehend what Rachel just said. She likes some fat bitch but the bitch doesn't like _her_? What the holy fuck is going on. "You like big girls?" I said in my best casual voice. Making it sound like a change of topic.

"Quinn."

"Rachel."

"Stop."

"Why?"

"Because you're making me uncomfortable." She's brutally honest sometimes. Just a little too honest. Like she doesn't care how you feel as long as she knows she's not being wrong.

"I'm just asking you a question. Maybe I like bigger girls too."

A low groan comes from the other side of the line; it's hard to tell if she's aroused or annoyed. Either way I don't blame her.

"Do you?" her shy voice is so cute.

"Why do you care?" I teased. It's fun. Try it sometime.

"Stop fucking with me!" she cried. Cried. I mean like she sounds like she's crying. I'm dumbstruck and my mouth hangs open to try and comprehend what happened. "Stop doing this to me! I don't even know why I called. I like big girls sometimes. So what. Just answer me a stop teasing me with all this bullshit about and just tell me!"

"What's wrong, Rachel?" is all I could say at the moment. It was the best thing. I didn't want her to go.

"I'm in love with one girl and I have a really big crush on another and I don't know what to do! I'm so confused right now. I hate it. I hate being confused. It's completely irrational what I'm going through. Why can't everything just be perfect?"

"I'm picking you up."

"You're picking me up?"

I said, "Yes. I'm coming over right now and picking you up. Just lemme get dressed and I'll be right over. Then we'll go foodshopping and get some snacks and come back here and watch movies and pig out and you can sleep over. Okay?" I said, her whimpering on the other side.

She sniffled. "You sound like my dad," her giggles made me smile.

"Yeah well. Whatever. I'll be over in ten minutes. Start getting ready. We have toothbrushes, so don't worry about those." I tell her, reaching to the floor to grasp the undies.

"Thank you, Quinn." She said and I sigh, hanging up. I wish I had said something. Hanging up like that was a dick thing to do.


	13. Car Crash

**Author's Note: **This was the beginning of a request I got. I never had the motivation to finish it.

****Date Created:**** 11/20/2011

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><p><strong>Car Crash<strong>

And with the snap of my fingers – it felt like that anyway – I was in a hospital bed, and I had bandages over my eyes. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear anything but the faintness of things occurring beyond my hospital room.

Then I heard the sobbing of a teenage blond. I remained motionless as the sound of a door opening occurred.

"Please, _please_ I have to see her. Just see her,"

"You can't. Ms. Berry has been in a serious car accident and cannot have any disturbances!" a nurse told her. It was Quinn.

"I won't wake her up. I just need to be here, _please_." The pain in her voice distracted me from the faint pain I was feeling.

I assume the nurse agreed to allow Quinn to stay with me. I don't know why she wanted to. Thankfully my heartbeat remained steady. I wouldn't want to tip off that I was awake. It may lessen the sympathy she was feeling.

Footsteps grew louder as, I assumed, Quinn neared me. Then I felt my hand lift from the bed. She was holding my hand. She placed it back down once more onto the soft cushion.

"Rachel…" she started, voice uneven, "…I love you. I need to tell you that first. Everyday since I don't even _know _when I've loved you. I've felt a pounding in my heart whenever I look at you. I've felt almost uncontrollable urges for you. Everything you've ever done has made me _feel _something…"

There was a pause. I assume she needed to take a moment to breath because a shaky breath was the only thing that stood out against the relative silence.

"When you came to me at the beginning of the year, when I was still with the Skanks, I almost told you. But you left. I kicked myself for not telling you. I was infuriated at myself, and also at you for leaving so quickly. We almost got there. What am I saying – you wouldn't love _me_. I've been too horrible. I know you said you don't hate me, but that doesn't mean you love me either. My feelings may explain what I did, but they don't justify it, and I swear you better live and you better see again so you can see how damn sorry I am for hurting you the way I did."

I wanted to tell her. I needed to.

"When you wake up, I'll do anything for you. Anything you want. I'll walk on hot rocks or even buy you tickets to _Wicked_ or something. I don't know. You've probably already seen that, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind seeing it again. I don't know. You're perfect. I know everyone always makes fun of your nose, but I think it's adorable. And not like it a 'it's so ugly it's adorable' way but in a genuine way. I'm gay. You're the first person I've ever told. And it counts, even if you are unconscious because it's not whether the person listened or not, it's whether I feel comfortable telling the person. And I feel comfortable telling you. I feel comfortable telling you because I _know _I'm gay. I know I am every time I look at you. I know it every time you look at me. I feel my heart speed up and I feel like the world could end and everything could be alright just because I was blessed enough to have met you."

She stopped once more, and then she stood up.

Silence. Then her lips. Then footsteps. Then a door. Then she was gone.


	14. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note: **This is a pseudo personal account of something that happened to me. I like Holiday themed stories.

**Date Created: **11/24/2011

* * *

><p><strong>Thanksgiving<strong>

_One fifteen. That's an appropriate time to text someone on Thanksgiving! No one eats until at least four, and lunch, if had at all, would be around noon. _

This was Rachel Berry's train of thought when she made the decision to text everyone in glee club. Finn, Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Artie, Mike, Puck, Lauren, Sam, Mr. Schue…and Quinn. She faltered when she texted Quinn.

To: Finn; Kurt; Mercedes; Tina; Santana; Brittany; Artie; Mike; Puck; Lauren

_Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for you!_

From: Rachel

She licked her lips as she set up the second text.

To: Sam; Mr. Schue

_Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for you!_

From: Rachel

She paled as she realized she didn't include Quinn. Should she? The two were far from friends…but were they enemies? This was all giving her indigestion: something she didn't want on Thanksgiving. She may not eat Turkey, but she definitely ate.

To: Quinn

_Happy Thanksgiving. I'm really thankful for you_.

From: Rachel

The minute the text was sent she realized she added 'really' to Quinn's text. She was glued to her phone for the next few minutes as she waited for Quinn's response. In the meantime she received responses from Kurt, Brittany, Puck, Sam, Mr. Schue, Tina and Finn. She figured the others were either busy or just didn't care to respond.

Then her phone buzzed with a response from Quinn.

_Who is this?_

Rachel's heart sped up as she read it. She pulled in her lips and took a deep breath.

_Rachel_.

The next response wasn't comforting.

_How'd you get my number?_

She replied quickly.

_Puck put it in my phone a while ago._

Quinn took a few minutes to reply this time, which left Rachel with a pain in her stomach.

_Why are you thankful for me._


	15. Silver Springs

**Author's Note: **Written based on a song recorded by Fleetwood Mac during the Rumours sessions. Love it.

**Date Created: **12/28/2011

* * *

><p><strong>Silver Springs<strong>

Wandering eyes rested upon a blonde beauty who sat what seemed like miles away from where the eyes existed. The attempt to seem inconspicuous seemed to be futile, and it was, but not for the reasons Rachel Berry thought.

She bit her bottom lip before a hand waved in front of her face, breaking her from a trance that she could only describe as orgasmic. Too much. But what if Quinn Fabray did catch her staring. Maybe she would come over and kiss her. Or just come over.

But what if she was disturbed. That wasn't too far out of reach. Rachel turned to Kurt and thanked him.

"You've got to stop."

Rachel shrugged and laughed tragically, babbling on about no harm no foul or something to the effect before returning to her salad.


	16. Crying

**Author's Note: **I think I was just trying to write something a bit more thorough than usual with this.

* * *

><p><strong>Crying<strong>

Once I caught Quinn Fabray crying in the auditorium. It wasn't dramatic: she wasn't putting on a show for anyone else like she may have been when she cried at other times. May have been. She was crying alone: she was crying because she was miserable, lonely, sad. She was crying because there was a pain in her chest and she couldn't quite cope with it. I entered from the stage door, quietly – I wasn't supposed to be there to begin with. Stepping out onto the stage, it was then I started to hear her. She was in the front row, third seat in on the left side in the middle section. "Quinn?" I said, almost foolishly. Her head jerked up immediately and she didn't even take a moment to consider the possibilities before grabbing her jacket and running out of the auditorium. By the time I was off the stage, she was out of the room.

That was Friday, meaning I wouldn't see Quinn until the following Monday, and I didn't know where she lived and it seemed to be rude if I went over uninvited after acquiring her address from one of her friends: if any of them _were _her friends. I'm not saying Quinn is not a girl worth being friends with, but in recent weeks, now that I think of it, I hadn't seen Quinn hanging around anyone. Her time was spent reading an assorted array of books, looking out windows, only lightly singing in the far corner of the choir room. She never came in early to Glee club. She always seemed to assure herself that she wouldn't have to worry about anyone coming up to her and asking 'how are you?' or 'are you okay?', because it was pretty obvious Quinn Fabray was not, excuse the rhyme, okay. And I think that she may have been miserable of lying too. That's why I think she chose to stop talking almost altogether; the teachers were the only people who were capable of extracting an answer from her.

The following Monday I scoped out the auditorium before heading to homeroom: it never hurt to make sure. It lost its luster though. The memory that was now eternally embedded in my brain seemed to poison everything about the wide expanse. My heart stung for a moment, but I ignored it and kept on my way: a watchful eye remained looking for the blonde. For whatever reason, I even kept a look out for Santana and Brittany. It's not _too _far-fetched that Quinn may still be loitering around with them.

All in a matter of moments the following occurred: I stepped into the school's central hallway; who appeared at the end of the hallway, which seemed like miles away, was one, once again forgive my rhyming, Quinn Fabray; Finn stepped in front of me, blocking my view of essentially everything. Sometimes even I grew tired of trying to see past his evergreen-like structure. I attempted to push him out of my way but this only confused him and prompted an 'are you okay?' and 'what's wrong?' To this I could only respond flustered drabbles of words with no real coherence and by the time I finally got around him Quinn had disappeared and I was without a single trace. It wasn't without an angry glare that I left Finn's presence with a scowl and trudged to homeroom.

My next encounter with Quinn Fabray was thanks entirely to my bladder. It's no secret that everyone's favorite period of the school day is lunch, and so those who cherish it choose to _not _go to the bathroom during this time, instead wasting a few minutes of actual class time to empty themselves out. This meant that at lunch, except in _dire _situations, the bathrooms were emptier than ghost towns. I myself found myself completely bored at lunch that day and not even remotely interested in doing anything but ponder the current circumstances of her life. But how could I do this if I had to use the restroom? So I got up and traveled to the nearest bathroom. Upon entering I found Quinn Fabray at the farthest sink. I paused briefly as she stared with widened eyes.

"Quinn, I"

"I don't want to talk to you." She said in a hoarse voice, making for the door quickly. I blocked her way.

"Quinn. We need to talk."

"No." She said and reaffirmed it with her eyes. It was like a bulldozer had just driven over me: my zeal evaporated instantly and I found myself empathizing with Quinn.

As she once more attempted to maneuver around me, I shifted to prohibit such and receive and growl and who could blame me for staring up at her, shocked. "Quinn, I'm worried about you."

"Let me leave, Rachel." She said persistently.

"No, you're not going."

"What? Whadda you wanna know?" she stepped back, her voice bombastic, "I swear you're like an overbearing girlfriend!"

I blushed at this and as I was just about to speak, I lost the appetite to and my mouth hung slightly open numbly. Girlfriend? "Girlfriend?" did Quinn just equate my care to a lover's? I didn't know whether to be shocked, confused, or flattered.

"Or boyfriend. Whatever." She seemed to want to correct herself: embarrassment flooded her face and I simply stared in awe.

"You're not . . . gay, or bisexual," she did not speak but her eyes held some sort of negative emotion, "or fluid, you know. There's nothing wrong with any of those things. As you know my fathers are gay and I am completely supportive of the gay-lesbian-bisexual-transsexual-community."

By our similar reactions – silence – I knew that her heart was beating just as fast as mine. It was now that the feeling of an impatient bladder returned to me and I felt my legs press together as I tried to contain myself.

"I have to . . ."

Quinn looked down and linked her hands together behind herself. "I'm fine." She said earnestly. I couldn't believe her. I marched up to her and in a bold move, shoved my hand into her jean pocket and grabbed her phone – during this Quinn attempted to jump back and her eyes did grow with surprise. She scrambled over her words and when I pulled out her phone and held it up to my face I sighed heavily before dialing my number and saving it as '_Rachel Berry'_.

"There's my number." Stepping out of her way, she stared at me and the phone I returned to her possession. All she did was stare for just the briefest amount of time before giving what may or may not have been a smile and exiting the bathroom. Not a second after the door closed did I rush into one of the stalls and relieve myself of this increasingly painful need.


End file.
